


In Spite of Himself

by StripySock



Series: Just Getting By [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Caretaking, Dub-con caretaking, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Sweet, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripySock/pseuds/StripySock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen takes care of himself, a fact Jeff likes, admires and respects and something he does his best to aid when he can. Sometimes though someone just doesn't know what's best for them, and when a sick Jensen attempts to push too hard, Jeff is right there to stop him despite everything he might lose, including their blossoming relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Spite of Himself

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt at spnkink-meme: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/63218.html?thread=19572978#t19572978

Jensen is doing his work in the garden again, sunglasses pushed firmly up his nose, feet up on the garden chair, and Jeff grins as he sees him. Jensen is always working himself to the bone, now he can’t even catch the autumn sunlight without a bunch of papers beside him. He leans over the fence, watches Jensen brighten when he realises who it is, and pops over into the other man’s garden. Jensen had once told him frankly that he welcomed the breaks Jeff provided, and Jeff was more than happy to continue doing so, knowing that otherwise Jensen probably wouldn’t stop until his rumbling stomach grew too difficult to ignore.

When he’d first moved to this neighbourhood three years ago, the presence of an unbonded omega, and one that had been featured pretty often in the movers and shakers bits of the daily papers, (Jensen had been twice featured in the Omegas to Watch column,) had not been an enticement. Jeff was well past the stage of early adulthood where omegas had seemed mysterious and enticing and eminently desirable, and had come right through to irritably wishing that they’d keep their parties to themselves and not wake up the neighbourhood. Jensen was still young, but he was on the older end of unbonded omegas, and Jeff had guessed correctly that the combination of Jensen’s handsome face, taut body, meteoric (for an omega) career, and his cheerful disposition, would mean that he’d always have an alpha on the string. 

It was one of the nastier traits of his segment of society, he’d long ago decided, that a certain type of alpha went after a certain type of omega. The presence of someone so self-assured and confident in his unbonded status seemed like a red flag to alphas bored of omegas desperate to please, anxious for new challenges, aware that having someone like Jensen kneeling by their chair would be a coupe for them, and a blow to the omega movements that viewed people like Jensen as the flag-bearers for a less divisive society.

Jeff had resigned himself to the fact that living next door to Jensen, meant that as a half way decent person with a liberal outlook on life he’d have to give the other man a hand to chase off unwanted suitors from time to time. Over the last three years he’d changed his views though. Jensen didn’t need help chasing them out, he managed to do that successfully all by himself, and on more than one occasion Jeff had been privileged enough to see the show. 

He’d also grown to like and respect Jensen more than he’d ever have thought possible before meeting him, a thought that had him thinking uncomfortably of the judgement he'd made before knowing him. On top of everything else, Jensen was funny and kind, and absolutely unapologetic about being what he was, and Jeff didn’t mind admitting to himself that he was close to falling in love with his next door neighbour, and in a way that was as new and astonishing as anything he could imagine. 

What he hadn’t expected when he’d first got to know his neighbour properly, was the counterpart to Jensen’s constant activity, for while Jensen could easily deal with alphas who got out of line, bosses who presumed too much, and the other minor annoyances of life, the one thing he couldn’t get to grips with was caring for himself. He went cheerfully through life on an apple for breakfast, cup of soup for lunch, and on whatever frozen meal he’d stocked up on that week for dinner, always anxious to be doing something else, running some activity, being out on a date, anything rather than look after himself properly. 

Jeff had found it amusing at first, and then quietly after a while had begun to help. It didn’t seem right that Jensen should extend himself so far, stretch himself so thin with no help at all, and the game between them started from that point. 

Jensen had made it calmly clear to Jeff from the moment they’d met, that his house, his grounds and himself were off limits unless he offered invitations, something Jeff would’ve been offended by if he hadn’t realised that Jensen gave the exact same spiel to every alpha he met, a way of setting the ground rules out upfront. He wasn’t unaware then of the trust implied and given by the fact that he now had free run of the house, and was the only neighbour on the street with an extra key, a privilege he used freely and often when Jensen was looking more run down than usual. 

It was nothing big, nothing one friend wouldn’t do for another, if you eliminated the teasing edge between them that had been there for the last few months, the frisson that gave their interactions a tingle no matter how mundane they were. Jeff, with the relaxed attitude of someone who’d been through it all before, knew exactly how to play it, Half the fun was in the courting, the flirting, the buildup to acknowledging what was between them. He was in no hurry to rush it, no hurry to damage the rapport that had built up between them, by pushing too far and too fast, scaring Jensen off. The experience given by a few extra years was proving invaluable to him, the knowledge that nothing had to happen all at once, and that some things were worth waiting for. 

As it was, helping Jensen out from time to time had become a habit, occasionally bringing a plateful of food over that hadn’t seen the inside of a microwave, helping him with decorating (saving him from the awful stylistic choice of an orange kitchen had been a particular win,) even giving him a hand with his laundry. It felt almost warm and domestic between them, and Jeff relished it. This was what he had been looking for, someone who neither needed nor demanded his help, but who bucked teasingly under it sometimes, and who sent a warm wave of feeling crashing around his heart that he hadn’t ever felt before.

Things had been changing recently though. Jensen was thinner and more rushed looking than ever before, his place though was scrupulously clean and tidy, and he was working longer hours than ever at his job as a successful executive. Sometimes Jeff glanced out of the side window late at night and saw Jensen only just returning from his job, looking pale and tired and then settling down at his dining table with his papers until he gave up and just stared outside bleakly without bothering to draw his curtains. 

It coincided with an upturn in Jeff’s own business, and for a while he didn’t have the time to spend with Jensen that he usually did, though he noticed with concern that every time he saw Jensen he looked more tired and worn. When he did make it round with food now, Jensen barely had any appetite at all, though he thanked Jeff for the thought. All of Jeff’s attempts to find out what was going on were useless though, Jensen was close mouthed on the subject and skillfully eluded actually answering any questions, leaving Jeff frustrated and irritated that their progress seemed to be going back a step rather than forward.

It took another week for things to come to a crux though, when Jeff rising early for a run, bumped into a Jensen who hardly seemed able to find his way to the car. He had put out one steadying hand at first, then realised seconds later that Jensen was barely standing by himself, and had drawn the younger man closer to him, allowing himself a brief moment of simply holding him, before he felt the feverish warmth that was being exuded. “Jensen,” he said gently, stepping back while still holding him upright. “I’m going to take you back into the house.”

Jensen’s head snapped upright, and some of the bleariness disappeared from his eyes. “No,” he said as firmly as he could while he was still reliant on someone elses strength to stand up. “I’ve got to get into work.” He shook himself free of Jeff’s hands and headed straight for the car, or at least attempted to do since his progress was slower than might have been expected and he was aiming for the wrong car. Jeff wrestled with his conscience for a second. On one hand Jensen was going to be pissed when he was feeling better and realised that Jeff had wrestled his keys off him, on the other hand between Jensen being pissed, and between him being wrapped around a lamp-post on his way to work really wasn’t a choice.

Jeff caught up with in a couple of long strides, and slid his hand firmly into Jensen’s pockets, snagging the keys and putting them in his own. “You’re not going into work like that,” he said calmly. “You’re ill and you need rest.” Without further ado, he put his arm round Jensen’s shoulders and guided him back towards the house, ignoring the weak struggling attempts to shake him off. The front door was unlocked, another sign of how out of it Jensen was, and Jeff lowered him to the sofa, doubting he’d be able to handle the stairs at that second. 

Jensen suddenly sagged as though all his strings had been cut, and leant back on the sofa, hand still clutching his briefcase as though he’d forgotten to put it down. John gently pried it out of his fingers and set it to one side. “I’m going to get some water,” he said softly, and left the room. When he came back with a glass of water, some ibuprofen and some tissues, Jensen was still awake, hunched up and doubled over. Jeff set the water down, and sat down beside him, checking his watch. “What the hell were you doing trying to go to work at this time anyway?” he asked. Even for Jensen heading to work at half six wasn’t normal. 

The other man’s shoulders hunched a little more. “It’s work,” he said, and Jeff noticed how scratchy and sore his voice was, the flushed skin under his eyes, and how miserable he looked as he said it. “I have to go in Jeff, you don’t understand.”

“I think I do,” Jeff said quietly, “what they’re asking you to do Jensen isn’t right. Nothing is important enough to put yourself through this, to sacrifice your health and your well being to climb the corporate ladder is just short sighted and stupid.” Sighing, he realised that Jensen wasn’t even listening, his face set into the familiar stubborn lines Jeff saw every time Jensen was saying a private ‘fuck you’ to the world. He wasn’t used to seeing that look directed at him, far more usually it was part of the package that Jensen used to help rid himself of an alpha turned excessively possessive and authoritarian. He tried to soften his words a little bit. “You need to look after yourself better and tell these pricks where to get off.”

It was the wrong thing to say, Jensen stiffened in offense. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said coldly. “It’s fucking easy for you to say, they’re not going to fire you, not going to make you the scapegoat for a messed up deal. It’s a recession Jeff, losing my job and a reference would make it impossible to find a new one. I _have_ to keep this one. Who is..” His voice had gotten louder as he got to the end, and he dissolved into a coughing fit that wracked him until he managed to get some of the water down. Once the coughing was finished he continued more calmly. “I appreciate the thought Jeff, really I do. But this is too important to me to risk it by being ill.”

Jeff silently handed him the ibuprofen as he thought it through. What Jensen was saying was ridiculous, there was no doubt his employer was putting pressure on them to complete their work, but they couldn’t fire someone for having a day off, particularly not someone like Jensen who never even took his allotted time off let alone extra, and if they did that was a matter for a tribunal. Jensen was barely strong enough to drink his water let alone make it through a work day. “How long have you been ill?” he asked.

“About a week,” Jensen admitted quietly. “It’s just a cold but I can’t seem to shake it off.” Looking at him, Jeff doubted highly whether it was just a cold, but didn’t bother arguing the toss. If Jensen had been anything like this for a week then what he was going to need most was liquids, a warm bed and a good sleep if not a trip to the doctor. All of those things Jeff could provide, and was going to. He cared about Jensen too much to let him burn himself out like this. He didn’t say anything, just stood and walked to the house phone in the corner of the room, flicking through the black book Jensen kept beside it as an aid to memory until he came across his work number. 

Dialling it, he waited for a few rings until a bored sounding receptionist picked up. “Can you put me through to Mr Ackles department?” he asked, and held on until he got through, and explained that Jensen wouldn’t be coming to work today thanks to illness, but that he’d email in the work he’d done the night before (Jeff knew for a fact that Jensen would’ve done extra work even if he was closer to dead than alive.) The person on the other hand said they hoped Jensen felt better soon, and thanked him for letting them know, assuming instantly that Jeff was Jensen’s bonded alpha. He didn’t bother to correct them, just turned back to look at Jensen.

For a sick omega Jensen managed to look both ferocious and pissed off to a high degree, and Jeff decided to forestall the inevitable murderous threats Jensen would probably unleash, by stalking back over and kneeling beside the sofa, the better for Jensen to see his face. “You are off work for the day. Probably tomorrow as well, and for as long as you need until you get better. End of discussion. You can hate me for this when you get better, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take rather than let you do yourself some genuine harm.” To his surprise Jensen shut his mouth, though it’s tight line and his blazing eyes made it clear that this was not over. 

Jeff draped Jensen’s arm round his neck. “I’m going to take you upstairs now,” he said carefully, “and get you tucked into bed.” Jensen was unusually tall and well built for an omega, and it was harder work than he’d imagined getting him upstairs, not made any easier by Jensen’s stubborn refusal to help. Once he was in bed though he relaxed, turning onto his side and dropping off almost instantly. Jeff stood looking at him for a second with fond irritation, then phoned his own company to let them know that he wasn’t going to be in.

While Jensen was asleep he used the time wisely. Jensen’s fridge was empty so his first stop was going to have be picking up some food, and maybe some cold meds. Checking that Jensen was actually sleeping rather than just faking, he drove down to the local store to pick up essentials to tide them over until he could do a bigger shop, including a bottle or two of cough syrup, some cold medication and a obscene quantity of orange juice. Freshly made chilled soup, and some ready-made sandwiches for himself made up the rest of his purchases. When he got round to unpacking them in Jensen’s ridiculously neat kitchen, he paused. It was uncannily clean, and the only time he’d ever seen it like this had been when Jensen had first moved in, and he’d come over to welcome him. Usually it was a cheerful mess of sheets of paper pinned up, a few mugs mouldering on the side, and a few crumbs. Now it was completely and sterilely clean.

He felt obscurely like he should have realised something from that. Jensen didn’t clean much, and didn’t hire a cleaner for a ton of reasons that he said jokingly he could only explain half of to Jeff, and that if he told him the rest he'd have to kill him. But whatever point the silent kitchen was making was beyond him, so he poured a glass of orange juice and took it and the cough medicine upstairs with him. Jensen was awake now, but he hadn’t moved, still huddled around his pillow. Jeff set the glass on the bedside table, and gently tilted Jensen’s head towards him. “This’ll help your cough,” he said, pouring out a little bit into a teaspoon. Jensen turned away, closing his eyes.

Jeff paused for a second then pulled Jensen round again. “There’s really not much point in fighting it,” he said matter of factly. “I’ve got all day and you’re only harming yourself.” He nudged the teaspoon against Jensen’s lips again, and this time the other man let it in. Jeff had to stop himself from thinking the obvious. Jensen was sick and tired and grumpy, and more than likely angry to the bone with Jeff’s intervention, not exactly the sort of mood that’d welcome a kiss.

Still as long as Jensen felt better by the end of this it’d be worth it. He didn’t want to examine exactly why that was so; this was who he was, when someone he cared for hurt it pissed him off and made him want to fix it, the typical alpha urge to possess and protect bleeding through. He took the spoon away, and tugged up the blankets. 

Jensen turned with a sigh, moving carefully. “M’back hurts,” he said with a touch of aggrievance in his voice as though his back was personally spiting him, and Jeff smiled at the sound if not the words, before setting firm gentle hands on his back and beginning to rub. He’d learnt this many years ago, and though he didn’t have much recent practice (since meeting Jensen he had to admit ruefully) he still remembered enough therapeutic massage that it should relieve some of the pain. Sure enough, Jensen practically melted into the bed in minutes, the initial resistance disappearing almost immediately. By the time Jeff stopped, Jensen looked significantly better, and strangely more awake. 

“Is there anything you want?” he asked.

“My briefcase,” was the answer, “and my laptop.” 

Jeff had to admire his persistence. “Not a chance,” he said though. “I was thinking more cup of coffee, a book, another pillow. Though I’ll do you a deal. Drink the orange juice, and tell me the names of the files you need sent and I’ll make sure they go.”

Instead of laughing like he’d expected, a look of complete misery crossed Jensen’s face as he reached for the orange juice and downed it. “Happy now?” he said tiredly in complete contrast to how he’d looked after the massage. “The files are in My Documents in the New Work folder. Send all of them to this address.” He fished out his Blackberry and hazily scrolled through the emails until he found the right one. Handing it over he huddled back down though he didn’t look sleepy anymore as much as bone-tired and sad.

There was precisely no way Jeff was leaving Jensen looking like that, as quiet and dull and silent as though he were the well trained omega that by birth he should’ve been, instead of what he’d made himself through sheer will and grit. After retrieving the laptop and sending the email, he took off his boots, and nudged Jensen. “Roll over,” he said drily, and when Jensen had done, he swung his legs up onto the bed, until he was leaning against the headboard, a hands width away from Jensen. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked the thin air. 

There was silence from the lump next to him. Then the answer came, stark and truthful. “I’m sorry Jeff,” Jensen said flatly. “I thought I could do it but I can’t.”

Jeff felt his blood go cold for a second, disappointment washing through him like a cold shock of reality. He hadn’t realised until that moment just how much he’d been hoping that Jensen had been feeling something like he had. For a moment he tried to assimilate it, take it all in, then he rejected and tucked it away to think about later. He was too old for Jensen, he told himself sternly, before he leaned over and ruffled Jensen’s hair. “Don’t worry about it,” he said and he was proud that his voice didn’t waver for a moment.

Jensen was still continuing though. “I really thought I could give it a go, but it just didn’t work out. I can’t be the sort of omega you need Jeff. I’ve tried so hard these last few weeks I promise, but old habits die hard. I’d just slip up and fail and it’d be for nothing, except you’d end up despising me, and I’d be unhappy. I can’t even keep a kitchen clean properly, I don’t take orders well...” he was almost rambling to himself now, and Jeff cut in.

“I’m not sure I understand; what do you mean ‘the sort of omega I need?”

“Jeff you told me yourself,” Jensen said sounding almost surprised. “That night you got the good news about your sister getting bonded, and you came round to celebrate. We were talking about what made a good bond, and you said that you couldn’t imagine anything worse than an omega who didn’t have a life outside the house.” Jeff was beginning to remember. It had been one of the flirtiest nights between him and Jensen, sharing a couple of bottles of wine between them, not drunk just voluble and bantering. “Then you said that you liked someone who was put together and smart and effective, and I sort of hoped that you meant me.” He exhaled a long long sigh. 

“But I’m not put together in the least, and as for being effective, I can’t keep a house clean, or cook for love or money.” His voice became softer, slower. “I gave it a go, I worked more, tried to keep the place tidier, prove to you what a good omega I could be, listened to everything you said to show how well I could take instruction when it was someone I liked as much as you.” Again his words trailed off.

Trying to put all of the pieces together was making Jeff’s head spin. There was proof positive lying right beside him that even the smartest of people could be remarkably self delusional at times. He could only shake his head in amazement. “Jensen, he said. “Everything I said that evening was true that’s exactly the sort of person I’m looking for. But why on earth even if my description hadn’t fitted you to a tee, which it did because it was _designed_ to, you idiot, would you think that I was looking for a traditional omega willing to change and adapt themselves to me? What have I possibly done in the past that’d make you think I’d want or enjoy that?”

Jensen looked at him, green eyes showing from beneath the duvet. “This isn’t my first time Jeff,” he said drily. “I’ve dated alphas before, and even the best of them couldn’t stop themselves when it came down to brass tacks. They talked the talk about being happy to have such a fulfilled omega with such a good job, and then tried to take it away from me, tell me how much happier I’d be if only I’d let myself be bonded to an alpha who knew what was best. I just assumed that that was standard, and this morning didn’t exactly dent that belief. You came in, took control of everything, made me want to follow your lead and just let you do it.” 

Jeff was silent, everything Jensen was saying was true. He’d been there for the breakups with two of the alphas that Jensen had dated, seen exactly how well they’d taken an omega saying no to them, and it hadn’t been a pretty sight. After the first one he’d seen, he’d admired Jensen’s bravery in ever trying the dating market again, after the second one he’d wanted to _stop_ him from ever dating again. Eventually he spoke. “I’m a lot of things Jensen, but I’ll swear on anything you want that insecure isn’t one of them. I want you. I’ve probably wanted you since the moment I met you, and I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what job you have, how well you clean your kitchen or whether you keep quiet when other alphas come around.”

Jensen tried to speak, but Jeff held his hand up. “Let me finish. I’m not going to lie to you, and tell you that life would be exactly like it is right now. I don’t let my partners kill themselves from overwork, I don’t let them get away with treating themselves badly or making poor decisions, I care for them to the best of my ability as intensely and fiercely as I can, and if you do something stupid, I’m going to tell you point-blank that I think it’s stupid, and that out of respect for me you should think your actions over before committing. These are things you should know before we even think about doing this.”

He waited, feeling empty and lighthearted now that he’d laid every one of his cards on the table. If there was a problem with anything he’d said, it should be heard out now. He was confident that Jensen understood what he was saying and where he was coming from

“I understand,” Jensen said quietly. “You know I can’t promise to be perfect,” he gave a little rueful grin that encompassed a lot of self knowledge, “but I can promise that I’ll listen to you, that I’ll let you take care of me, and I’ll do my best to be the best I can be for you.” He turned closer to Jeff. “I can also promise to get inappropriately horny at the worst possible times,” he said with an embarrassed smile. “I’m still hard from that massage, something about that and clearing up misunderstandings apparently really turns me on.” 

Jeff let out a genuine hoot of laughter. “No wonder you look like you’re feeling so much better,” he said affectionately. “A little bit of rest, a dose of cough medicine and a massage and you’re raring to go.” As instinctively as though this was the thousandth time he’d done it rather than the first, he slid his hand under the covers and inside Jensen’s boxers, (silently thanking whoever was listening for Jensen having mostly stripped while he was out shopping,) until he felt the hard silky cock, on impulse running his finger behind it to meet Jensen’s smooth entrance. Jensen gasped and raised his hips for better access. He wasn’t in heat so instead of the large quantities of natural lubrication that his body produced in that time, there were just traces of slickness, just enough that Jeff’s finger slid in easily, as though something in Jensen was calling him home. When he looked back at Jensen’s face, all traces of laughter were gone, and his eyes were fixed on Jeff’s face.

He still looked ill, Jeff thought, still tired and slightly feverish, but he hadn’t seen anything that could beat this in all the years he’d been alive, nothing to match Jensen looking straight at him with that expression, and he’s overcome. His own cock is hard now, got that way somewhere in between touching Jensen and looking at that face, and it hasn’t taken that little to get him going in a very long time. The need to make this new for both of them sweeps over him, the need to tie this all together, make Jensen feel exactly what he did to Jeff, how he made him feel.

Jensen’s legs have already fallen open, and he’s squirming out of his boxers, and it takes every bit of patience that Jeff has amassed over a lifetime not to just fuck him there and then like that, as hard and rough as he can manage until Jensen can and will think of nothing but him, and how good he feels, to not just roll him over and go to town with mouth and fingers and cock. He knows Jensen would like that, knows it from every tiny responsive twitch he gives to the light touches Jeff is using on him, that he would relish being fucked hard and fast, sinking into the moment until he’s just sensation. But tonight Jeff’s going to mark him more indelibly than that, going to etch himself on his heart.

He slides his finger back in, watching every trace of emotion chase itself across Jensen’s face, as he adds in another, slowly, carefully, in a way that Jensen probably hasn’t been fucked in an achingly long time. Already he is impatient, pushing onto the fingers as though anything he can do is going to make Jeff change his mind about what he’s going to do tonight, and he smiles privately at the thought. Jensen is sweating now, his body yielding around the intrusion, then tightening again, fingers clawing at the bedspread as he moans. Jeff wonders what he’ll sound like with three in him, and is pleased to find that three makes Jensen whimper for more, beg Jeff to fuck him, to let him come on his cock. 

He crooks them together tighter, aims for the sensitive prostrate blessing his reasonably long fingers, and is rewarded with a small gush of liquid that wets his fingers more thoroughly, and means that when he draws out his fingers to push them back in, that Jensen’s hole is as red and wet and fucked as he’d imagined it would be every time he’d thought about this. It isn’t enough though, and eyes on Jensen’s face he licks the head of his beautiful cock, sucks it into his mouth for one brief second. He knows without having to be told that that sensation is as new to Jensen as doing it was to him, and a fierce joy clutches his heart that this is his, that he is the only one to see Jensen thrust desperately with his hips for more, that this beautiful omega is convulsing and coming because of something he did, shaking as he shoots come across himself, and still tries to get more of Jeff’s fingers inside him, even as he shudders through what looks like a spectacular orgasm. 

His cock is aching now, and he fumbles with his left hand to get his belt and pants down, even as he still fucks Jensen with his fingers through the last wrung out moments of his orgasm until he’s tender-sore and can’t take anything more. Reluctantly he pulls his fingers out, slides his hand down his own cock. There’s plenty of time to fuck Jensen in the time they’ve got stretching out ahead of them, to fuck him as much as he wants and can take, when he’s fully well and healthy again. Jeff can’t help but think that if he’s this responsive now, what he’ll be like during heat, and the thought makes his cock almost jump in his hand, and his balls tighten at the idea, not just of Jensen begging for more during heat, or of how hot and tight he’d be as they fucked (or even of how loose and wet he’d be towards the end,) but of everything that came with it, a Jensen he could have forever.

Coming down from his orgasm, Jensen turned onto his side. “Come on,” he said with a rough whisper, and Jeff understood what he was saying. It wasn’t the right time to take him fully, but this would do admirably in the meantime. Jensen’s thighs were slick with the rest of lubrication, and he locked his knees tightly together as Jeff rubbed his cock first along the curve of his ass, and then between his thighs, slowly at first then faster, relishing how close it was to teasingly penetrating his lover, enjoying the unusual stimulation, and finally orgasming all over Jensen’s thighs.

He pulled back carefully, regretting how damp the bed was from their combined exertions but unable to bring himself to mind, when he caught sight of the long graceful line of Jensen’s back. He sat up, and leaned over to kiss Jensen, realising belatedly that this would be their first kiss. Jensen turned away. “Don’t want to give you the cold,” he murmured. They broke out laughing at exactly the same time given the incongruity of their present situation and Jensen’s solicitousness. Jeff solved it by kissing him lightly on the mouth, with a lazy flick of his tongue, pressing no further, just letting Jensen know again what he felt.

“I don’t care,” said Jeff. “I’ll take anything you have to give."


End file.
